Former Evil Gay Zombie Mutant Ninja

In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game fandomhigh, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the person who created the fictional person, or any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person. The author does not claim to be the person who is being used as the graphical representation of that fictional person, nor intend to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud that person by use of their image.

"Bonjour, vous avez atteignez Jean-Paul Beaubier. Je suis évidemment pas ici maintenant, autrement je vous néglige. Si ceci est n'importe qui a affilié avec les X-Men, aller de l'avant et raccrocher maintenant. Si ceci est Aurora, Jeanne-Marie, ou n'importe qui d'autre dans la tête de ma soeur, essayer mon téléphone de cellule."

There was a pause long enough one might think Jean-Paul was going to leave the caller to puzzle it out whether they spoke French or not, then,

"Hello, you've reached Jean-Paul Beaubier. I'm obviously not here right now, or else I am ignoring you. If this is anyone affiliated with the X-Men, go ahead and hang up now. If this is Aurora, Jeanne-Marie, or anyone else inside my sister's head, try my cell phone."

BEEP.

((French translation provided by freetranslation.com and therefore not guaranteed to be anything like accurate. Assistance in making it moreso provided by x5_alec.))

Jean-Paul had considered calling Scott and asking if there were any suicide missions lying about this weekend, but he'd decided that was the coward's way.

So before dawn, he'd gone flying. He'd made it up into the Arctic before he'd forced himself to turn around and come back. He landed on his balcony and opened the door.

( Bonjour, Joanne. )

When Jean-Paul woke up Saturday morning, his first thought was, Seriously? Someone had actually kidnapped him? Although these seemed to be some pretty crappy kidnappers, leaving him unbound and unattended. Not that he was complaining. Piotr was going to either freak out or never stop laughing.

He'd gone over this in his head. Step one: don't let them find out you're a mutant. Step two: assess the situation. Step three: don't be stupid. Step four: wait for rescue.

Now that he was in the moment, steps three and four were lame. Back to step two.

He was in a bed, in a bedroom furnished in what Jean-Paul would have to call Urban Gay Bachelor. If Jean-Paul had gone out last night, instead of staying in to do homework, this would make a lot more sense, and his only real concern would be explaining himself to his boyfriend. There was a neat stack on the dresser: passport, wallet, cell phone, keys. He ignored the latter two in favor of the passport, first. It was Canadian, and made out to...Jean-Paul Beaubier of Quebec, age thirty. The guy actually kind of looked like him, if he was, you know, old. And the picture was crappy and small, but he thought there was something wrong with the dude's ears. In the wallet were a couple of ID cards that looked government-issued (from both sides of the border) and a pair of school faculty IDs, one for Xavier's, one for some place called Fandom High, along with cash, credit cards, a stock broker's business card.

So. He had money. He had a closet full of clothes that wouldn't fit, but would keep him covered. He had ID, if he could bluff his way into people thinking he was thirty. And he had an empty apartment, no sign of a kidnapper in sight.

Time to figure out what was going on.

((Jean-Paul is now Ultimate!teen!Jean-Paul, but prior to Recent Events because I haven't actually read them.))

With finals fast approaching, Jean-Paul supposed it would be prudent to hold office hours so students could ask questions, express concerns, tell him he was a horrible person, you know, the usual. So Wednesday morning found him behind his desk, checking his e-mail. His inbox was full of messages from a blocked address, and he foolishly clicked one of them.

"X-MEN RPS?" echoed through the halls.

A little later, it was, "I WOULD NEVER!"

He was horrified, yet intrigued. It was like he couldn't look away.

((Open like an office with a horrified Quebecois mutant in it!))

Jean-Paul was in his office, thinking wistfully of Halloween candy. All that sugar he couldn't have...

Sometimes life really wasn't fair.

((Open like an office...that is open!))

Jean-Paul had considered putting up a sort of mad lib sign on the door and calling it a day. [Your child's name here] has been [above average/average/obsessed with spandex] in my class. You should be [proud/ashamed of yourself]. Then let them fill that in as they deemed appropriate. However, he suspected that would get him fired, so here he was in the flesh instead.

First, Jean-Paul shrieked in terror. Then, he composed himself long enough to call his sister and find out if this was a straight bodyswap, because he really did not want to deal with Jeanne-Marie's whacked-out brain chemistry. That was a weird phone call. She seemed to still be herself, but then he had to convince her she hadn't gone yet more crazy.

Then he just sort of sat in bed and whimpered.

Jean-Paul was in his office, ready to hear student complaints. He was also trying to come up with a class for fall. Possibly something that would make the students hate him less. But this class was just so much fun.

Jean-Paul was hardly the nicest person around, but most people already knew that.

Jean-Paul's face looked much better, and so he'd finally deigned to hold office hours. After all, the pixie woman probably wouldn't, and someone had to be available to hear the students' whining inevitable complaints.